Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice
Chapter 1
Lord Matlock and Darcy stood side by side, equally tall and remarkably alike, surveying the empty room where the elite of London society would gather for the annual ball of the Earl and Countess of Matlock in less than two hours.
“Everything is in order,” Lord Matlock said, his gaze resting with satisfaction upon the orchestra, which was already rehearsing, and the quiet army of servants ensuring that every detail of the evening would unfold perfectly.
“It is unusually warm for the end of February,” he continued, observing the high glass doors, which would certainly be open after an hour or two of dancing.
Darcy smiled. The weather would matter little to the many couples seeking a modicum of privacy, warmed by the dance and the sparks between them.
“This year, the orchestra will be truly exceptional!”
“It is exceptional every year, Uncle,” Darcy replied with warmth. Since the death of his father five years before, the earl had assumed, with affection and dedication, the role of father figure that both he and Georgiana needed.
“This year, however, it will be even more impressive—you will see. We have twelve musicians from Covent Garden, and Lady Oakham and I have selected the repertoire together.”
At that moment, his daughter-in-law, the aforementioned Lady Oakham, entered the ballroom. She waved to the two men from the far corner of the vast room, turning to speak to the butler.
“She is invaluable,” Lord Matlock continued. “Before she married Andrew, I arranged our annual ball almost entirely by myself.”
Darcy concealed a smile, for it pleased his uncle to believe this, though Lady Matlock, ever watchful from the shadows, truly directed every aspect of the occasion.
“And to think I was not at all certain about Andrew’s choice at the time.”
This, too, was not entirely accurate. Once Lady Matlock had approved the match, everything had fallen swiftly into place.
Lord Matlock trusted his wife, and although he often grumbled at her suggestions, he readily admitted that she possessed an uncommon gift for reading people.
Her salon was one of the most admired and envied in all of London, precisely for her gift of selecting people with the same taste in art and perfect decorum.
“And her family?” Darcy asked, striving to sound only politely curious.
“Diana’s family? Decent people—they never turn up unless invited. But Lady Matlock is fond of them, and somehow, we have become a family. I hunt with her father, and Mrs Stevenson, her mother, is a pleasant presence in the countess’s drawing-room whenever she is in town.”
Darcy did not respond, and anyone more attuned to human feeling than Lord Matlock would have noticed the silent unrest beneath his composed manner.
“You had best find yourself a wife before you end up married to Anne de Bourgh,” Lord Matlock said, chuckling. Although Anne had made considerable progress of late, she was clearly not the woman for Darcy. “Lady Catherine can be quite persuasive.”
“Not persuasive enough to convince me,” Darcy replied quietly, his thoughts evidently elsewhere.
“When you do decide to marry—and you must not delay—I strongly advise you to bring the young woman to Lady Matlock and heed her counsel.”
Fortunately for Darcy, who all of a sudden felt a strong desire to be alone, Lady Oakham approached, requesting her father-in-law’s opinion on a matter that could not wait.
He sighed in relief. The conversation with his uncle had been unexpectedly helpful, yet he needed time to reflect.
Shortly after Christmas, he had departed for Pemberley with Georgiana, longing for the solitude their grand house in Derbyshire always offered in that season when acquaintances and other family typically remained in London.
Georgiana was the only company he required; her discretion granted him the quiet he had deeply hoped for.
He needed time to reflect on all that had unfolded in the past few months, during which his life had taken a most unusual course. Love had struck suddenly in the most improbable of places: a shabby assembly room in Meryton, teeming with unremarkable, even tiresome, people.
Yet not for one moment had he doubted that what had overtaken him was love.
That profound and sometimes painful feeling could be nothing less.
For him, love had always meant affection, fondness, warmth, care—even devotion—but never that wild desire to grasp Elizabeth Bennet and ask her to marry him there and then, mere days after their first encounter.
With Lady Oakham in mind, he no longer doubted that his family would welcome his choice.
Elizabeth was exceptional in every possible way.
For a time, he had been content to simply know her better, proceeding slowly but with steady purpose towards a decision.
Unfortunately, that paradise had not lasted long; once her family burst into his awareness, that quiet course had shattered, and all that remained was tormenting passion and numbing indecision.
And the time passed in the quietness of Pemberley had not brought any revelation or answer. He had returned to town as tormented as when he had departed, vacillating between his strong feelings and the conviction that he could never marry Elizabeth Bennet because of her horrible family.